


Reveal

by umakoo



Category: Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Intersex Loki, Jötunn Loki, M/M, Mpreg, Pregnancy Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2015-10-19
Packaged: 2018-04-27 03:44:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5032462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/umakoo/pseuds/umakoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set decades after the Infinity War. Thor and Loki have reconciled, but Loki has disappeared from his chambers without a trace. Thor has been on his brother's trail for months, wondering what could have driven Loki to run away once more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reveal

**Author's Note:**

> Written because I found myself missing fluffy Thorki mpreg fics :3 The fic is a mix of canon and some of my favorite fanon and I also just outright ignore certain events like Frigga's death in TDW.
> 
> Big hugs to Bucky, Selene, Daria, Katie and Becky for the help!

The sky in the north grew dark with swelling storm clouds, the distant rumble of thunder promising heavy rain. Thor was glad to be riding in the opposite direction, for his cloak and boots were still damp from getting soaked last night before he’d found a place to camp. Down in the valley, the air was still warm and fragrant with earthy scents, but weather in Vanaheim was volatile this time of the year and Thor hoped to reach his destination before the evening rains.

 

 

“Whoa, slow down, girl,” he murmured to his mount, pulling on the reins.

 

 

She’d been running at a good clip for some time now, her snorting so loud that Thor decided it was time for a break. He dismounted and reached into the saddle bag for an apple, giving the white mare a pat on her muzzle as she accepted the treat. They’d been on the road since the break of dawn, though the actual road had disappeared a few days ago and they’d made their way forward on narrow foot trails, wading through fields full of marigold and buttercup.

 

 

This region of Vanaheim was completely unfamiliar to Thor, for his past travels had often been limited to the bigger cities up North where he could enjoy the comforts of a bustling inn and the famous Vanir hospitality. Loki had on occasion dragged him to some old ruins in the wilderness in search of magical baubles or rare rune stones, but Thor had never been this far in the countryside, the nearest city miles away. He’d spent the last fortnight sleeping under the stars or in hard, straw-filled beds, eating simple home-cooked meals and what little the peasants could afford to part with. The lack of princely comforts hardly mattered to him, for Thor was a warrior of many campaigns, some of them long and bloody. Roughing it came with the territory.

 

 

He drank deeply from his water skin and tugged his riding glove off to study his palm, tracing the long scar of brotherhood where it ran between callouses from Mjölnir’s shaft. The mark didn’t stand out or differ from the dozens of other scars he wore on his skin, and that thought alone had eased the worry in his heart on his travels. The scar bound him to his brother through age-old seiðr and oaths made with blood, and as long as it remained unchanged, Thor could be certain Loki yet lived. It was the only request he had made to Loki as Asgard lay in ruins beneath their feet, another Infinity Stone lost, the Mad Titan readying his next move on the cosmic battlefield.

 

_“Twice I have thought you dead, twice I have mourned you. I cannot do it for a third time.”_

 

_“Tsk, so dramatic, Thor. I hardly plan to die tonight.”_

 

 

There had been no proper truce between them, but in the end, Loki conceded and they swore their oaths on a small hilltop, the sky still alight with the fires of destruction. If one of them perished in the coming battles, there would be no doubts and guesses, no false funerals.

 

 

Thor closed his palm and pulled his riding glove back on. The scar may have remained unchanged, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t worried. Loki had always been secretive, coming and going as he pleased, but his disappearance almost six months ago had been unexpected. There had been no warning, nothing to make Thor suspect that one morning his brother’s chambers would be abandoned, seemingly for good. Their father had ordered his Einherjar to search Loki’s quarters thoroughly, but there’d been no sign of foul play, no trace of foreign, dark magic or any indication that Loki had been taken from his home against his will. The realms were enjoying a period of relative peace after the Infinity War was won, and though Thor had his doubts about some of the boondock moons and their marauders and rebels, no real threats had risen since Thanos’s defeat. He had to concede that his brother had walked out of the palace on his own two feet, leaving his family – leaving Thor – to wonder about his disappearance.

 

_Again._

 

The anger and hurt he’d felt in those first few weeks after Loki’s disappearance had burned bright, the years he’d thought  Loki lost for good a permanent wound on his heart, but as Loki’s absence grew, the anger quickly turned to worry. He’d searched Loki’s chambers for clues almost every day, for none knew his brother’s heart and mind like Thor, which was not as well as he’d like, for Loki did love his secrets. The only thing he’d been able to find was a smashed crystal in the bath chambers and examining the shards, Thor recognized it as one of the crystals their healers used to locate sources of pains and maladies on their patients’ bodies. He had shown the shards to their mother, and though a shattered crystal wasn’t much to go on, her face had turned ashen, some secret behind her eyes she refused to share with him.

 

 

_"Have you glimpsed the future?"_

 

_“You must bring your brother home, Thor. This is something he shouldn’t have to face alone.”_

 

 

Frigga said no more, but Thor set out that very night, his heart heavy with worry.

 

He put away his water skin and reached into his robes to pull out a folded piece of vellum. It held a crudely drawn map, the ink smudged and barely legible, but it had not led him astray so far. He’d passed the large rune stone marked on the map shortly after midday, and it appeared to be the final marker. Thor had overheard two fishwives gossip about a haunted old villa in the woods as he passed through a small hamlet a few nights ago. It would most likely turn out to be another wild goose chase, but he didn’t have any other leads to follow and something about a sudden, unexplained haunting that drove everyone away at a ten mile radius compelled him to investigate, for there was no denying that Loki had always been good with such illusions. Thor had certainly not forgotten all the times his brother had used one to scare Thor and their friends half to Valhalla when he was in a vindictive mood or wished to be left alone.

 

 

“The villa should be somewhere in that forest,” Thor grinned, patting the mare’s flank as he spurred her across the field, his heart a little lighter for the first time in weeks.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The distances on the map were hardly accurate and dusk had begun to settle over the forest by the time Thor arrived at the gate of the villa. He dismounted and walked up to the twin doors, both of them covered in vines and hanging off the hinges. Already he could tell the air was heavy with magic, his body attuned to the smell and feel of seiðr after centuries with Loki. He yanked down some of the vines that crawled along the metal bars to peer at the large Vanir villa beyond. The place appeared rundown, the walls swallowed up by overgrown ivy, the bright blue paint where it was visible peeling away.

 

 

Thor took Mjölnir in his hand and pressed the uru head gently against the gate, summoning a light spark of electricity to burn down the vines. The leaves and stalks turned to ash before his eyes, allowing him to step through the gate and into the courtyard. He led his horse to a small fountain of dark limestone and spoke a simple incantation Loki had taught him on one of their first hunting trips. Fresh water began to pour out of the stone jars held in the crumbling hands of three Vanir women where they stood in the middle of the fountain, their lovely features destroyed by age.

 

 

He left his trusty steed to drink and feast on apples and set towards the main building, taking in its sorry state. According to the villagers, the place had been abandoned for a decade or two, but the house in front of him looked like it had stood here since the creation of the realms, intimidating in its decay and gloom. The shroud of magic may have fooled the untrained eye, but Thor saw right through it, the familiar feel of his brother’s seiðr sending a tingle down his spine as he hurried towards the entrance.

 

 

He’d been on Loki’s trail for so long now, moving from realm to realm through official portals and with Heimdall’s aid when the need arose. He’d begun his search in Alfheimr, but the realm offered nothing but pollen infested air and ridiculous elven riddles Thor had no patience or time to solve. Loki, too, had always found the elves to be a pretentious lot and Thor had taken his search to the underground home of the dwarves, for his brother had been known to seek refuge amongst them when he’d managed to anger Thor in the past. The dwarves held no love for surface dwellers and even less for Loki, who had tricked them many a time in their youth, and the only thing Thor had learned in Nidavellir was a handful of new kennings for his brother, all of them unflattering, but no doubt well-deserved. He’d forgone Midgard altogether, knowing there was very little chance that Loki would venture there willingly, his heart full of resentment for the small realm. He’d also passed up Múspelheim, for Loki had always been a creature of comfort, and a breeding ground of fire demons was no bed of roses. It wasn’t until he traveled to Vanaheim that the trail went from cold to lukewarm.

 

 

And now, after months of searching, he’d finally found his wayward brother.

 

 

Too eager in his excitement, Thor reached for the rusty door handle and found himself flung backwards as if a pair of invisible hands had grabbed him by his lapels and tossed him back, denying him passage. The impact knocked the air out of his lungs and he was still sprawled on the ground when the front door flew open with a gust of wind. What came out may have scared the peasants, but Thor merely chuckled at the specter, his mouth spreading into a wolfish grin as he got up to his feet and pointed Mjölnir at the wraith’s poison green visage.

 

 

“You’ll have to do better than that, brother,” he laughed, dispelling the ghoul with a simple strike of lightning. He spread his feet and squared his shoulders as he settled into a battle stance, but to his great surprise and slight disappointment, the challenge appeared to be over.

 

 

The front door hung off its hinges and the illusion around the villa flickered like bad reception in a Midgardian television device. Worry returned to Thor’s heart when he realized his brother must be either very distracted or under great strain if his illusions were as wobbly as the novice mirages Thor had conjured for their tutor during seiðr lessons.

 

 

He fastened Mjölnir to his belt and hurried inside.

 

 

The place was quiet save for the chirping from errant birds flying near the high ceiling and swooping through open archways. Painted portraits of nobility hung on the walls, the rooms teal blue and emerald green as was customary in Vanaheim. Most of the furniture was still in place, covered with white sheets and piles of mouse droppings. Despite its age, the house was airy and bright, nothing like the illusion of rot and decay Loki had created outside. Dry leaves littered the marble floors and crumbled under Thor’s boots as he made his way from room to room, finding all of them empty. It looked like the house had been abandoned for years.

 

 

Thor frowned and made his way back to the entrance hall. Loki  _had to_  be here, for Thor would recognize his seiðr even if he were blind and deaf. He made his way up the large staircase and stopped at the second floor landing where the long corridor forked left and right. To his right there were more dry leaves and the air coming from that end carried a slightly dank smell. He turned his gaze to the left, noticing the lack of leaves on the floor and the two lit sconces by one of the doors.

 

 

“I’ve got you now…”

 

 

Thor kept his steps light as he entered the room, not wanting to give Loki a chance to escape, but to his great disappointment he found it as empty as the rest of the house. Still, it was clear  _someone_  was living in it, for the room was in far better condition than the rest of the house and Thor guessed it had been restored with seiðr. The air was pleasantly warm from the fire burning in the ornate fireplace and even one with no tracking skills could tell the large canopy bed had been slept in, for the covers were rumpled and the down pillow still held an impression from someone’s head. Thor crossed the room and took the pillow into his hands. He brought it up to his nose, warmth rising to his cheeks as he breathed in the familiar scent of cloudberries and a hint of seiðr-laced smoke he had come to associate with his brother’s illusions and penchant for hiding himself in the shadows just beyond the visible world.

 

 

He set the pillow aside and began to explore the rest of the room. The luxurious décor implied it had belonged to Vanir nobility, the finely crafted furniture somewhat extravagant for such an isolated vacation home. There were empty plates and goblets left on nearly every table top, some of them filled with old scraps of food and thoroughly cleaned chicken bones. Thor rolled his eyes in mild disgust and amusement; Loki had always been a bit of a slob, spoiled rotten by having access to servants at all hours.

 

 

He examined the vanity and the tall bookshelves, but there was nothing in the room to give Thor any clue why Loki had fled his home to stay in an abandoned villa in the middle of the Vanaheim countryside. They had not fought in months and the only disagreement they’d had before Loki’s disappearance had been about the restrictions their father had set for Loki in the palace grounds, restrictions which Thor was meant to enforce. If anything, they had grown steadily closer in the past few years, their hours of leisure spent in each other’s embrace as they made up for lost time.

 

 

There had been a handful of intimate reunions in the years leading to the Infinity War, many of them full of violence and resentment, but the Norns had spun their threads together soundly and even the bitter poison in their hearts could not keep them apart. After the war ended, Loki had disappeared for almost three decades and Thor had spent those years rebuilding the war-torn Asgard and helping to restore peace and order to the smaller realms, his thoughts turning to his brother only in the quiet hours of the night when sleep evaded him. He suspected Loki had kept in touch with their mother during those years, for she was not as saddened by his absence as their father, who had begun to succumb to the Odinsleep more and more often, worn down by guilt and old regrets.

 

 

When the last surviving Avenger passed away, Thor had made his final trip to New York City for the funeral, thus bringing an end to years of friendships and close collaboration with the mortals of this age. Asgard would watch over the small realm from afar, for Midgard had always been safer without direct interference from the more advanced worlds. Thor bid farewell to the few friends and retired warriors who still lived, and when he’d returned home, he’d found Loki seated upon his bed. 

 

 

_"Still fond of those mayflies, I see."_

 

 

_"Aye. I shall miss them."_

 

 

_"And have you missed me, Thor?"_

 

 

_"You know that I have."_

 

It was no lie, but he had not even realized how much his heart had yearned for his brother to return until he embraced him for the first time in decades. They shared several bottles of strong dwarven spirits that night, talking until dawn and coming to blows only once when Loki’s part in Asgard’s destruction was brought up. But time it seemed was often the best cure for old wounds and poisoned thoughts. Their heads were sore in the morning, but their hearts had not known such lightness since Thor’s failed coronation.

 

 

Thor finished his exploration of the room, but the only clue he’d found was a piece of parchment listing the names of various Vanir families, most of them crossed over and marked as “unsuitable”. He didn’t even try to decipher it, but the fire in the crate meant that Loki couldn’t have gone far and Thor took a seat in the armchair by the fireplace. He scratched his beard and pushed his feet toward the fire to dry his boots, his eyes heavy as he stared into the flames.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The past months had been tiring, and Thor didn't even realize he had dozed off until he was startled awake by a sudden loud crash. His hand wrapped around Mjölnir's handle and he shot to his feet, his gaze landing on Loki who stood in the doorway, surrounded by shards from a broken tea pot. Their eyes met across the room, both equally startled. Thor saw Loki's hands twitch, his fingers stretching out to cast, but he stopped himself just as the first sparks of seiðr began to form at his fingertips.

 

 

Thor realized his brother could not let himself disappear or change form and moving his eyes lower, he saw why: Loki was heavy with child, the fabric of his tunic stretched taut over his round belly.

 

 

Thor felt his breath catch in his throat, his vision growing dark around the edges. Loki had done many unexpected things over the centuries, but whatever Thor had expected to find at the end of his journey, this most certainly was not it. His knees threatened to buckle and he fought to stay on his feet, thinking for a moment that he must be trapped in a dream. Perhaps he had been wrong about the illusion that hung over the villa, perhaps none of this was real and he was being toyed with by some mean-spirited forest nymphs. Tearing his gaze off his brother’s stomach, he took one look at the horror-laced shame on Loki's face and knew this was no illusion.

 

 

Loki recovered first. He rolled his shoulders, his chin raised as his mouth pulled into a familiar sneer. "Well, I suppose congratulations are in order. It appears you are a tad smarter than an average Vanir peasant. So far everyone who’s approached this place has fled before they’ve even passed through the gates."

 

 

"The illusion was hardly your best work, brother," Thor remarked, still a little breathless as his eyes fell back to Loki's belly, seeing but barely believing. He had seen enough expecting ásynjur to recognize that Loki was well into his second trimester, and just like that, the mystery of his sudden disappearance was solved. He swallowed thickly as he walked across the room, approaching Loki slowly, as if he were nearing a wounded animal. " _This_  is why you left?"

 

 

Loki’s eyes darted to the windows, his mouth pulling into a tight line. There was nothing he could say to deny what both of them now knew to be the truth. He tugged on the hem of his tunic and crossed his arms over his stomach in a futile attempt to hide his condition.

 

 

The air between them felt thick enough to slice, full of nervous energy not only from Loki, but from Thor as well. When he was close enough to touch, he reached out with one hand, balling his fingers into a fist to hide how they trembled. He glanced up, arching his brows in a silent request to touch. Loki's throat bobbed as he swallowed. His shoulders slumped, the indignation on his face replaced with something fragile. He removed his hands from their protective hold around his stomach and gave a small nod, though his eyes still held a challenge, as if he expected Thor to be angry with him.

 

 

Thor worried his bottom lip between his teeth, his gaze darting from Loki's face to his stomach as he laid his palm gently against the round curve. A rumble of deep laughter burst from his lips. He could feel the warmth of Loki's skin through the finely woven fabric of his tunic and it surprised him how firm the flesh beneath his hand was as he stroked it slowly across the expanse of Loki's pregnant belly. He glanced up, blinking back the tears that suddenly stung his eyes.

 

 

"Is it... is it mine?"

 

 

Loki slapped Thor's hand away, an offended gasp leaving his lips. "You oaf!" he snarled. "Of course it’s yours! What other possibility is there? Or do you take me for some-"

 

 

Thor didn't give Loki a chance to finish his berating. He wrapped his arm around his brother's waist and used the other to clasp the back of his neck in a gesture so familiar that Loki relaxed at once, allowing Thor to close the small distance between them and press his lips to Loki's. There was some half-hearted struggling, but Loki ceased his squirming the moment Thor brushed his warm tongue against the seam of his lips.

 

 

His brother did not wear his heart on his sleeve as easily as Thor, but the bruising grip on Thor's nape and the sheer yearning in the kiss was proof enough that Loki had missed his company. "Thor... brother, please," Loki gasped, his breath warm against Thor's lips. He leaned in, wanting to be held, but the swell of his stomach prevented Thor from embracing him and Loki let out a frustrated groan.

 

 

"Shh, I've got you," Thor murmured. He knew Loki would never allow it under normal circumstances, but he gave no objection beyond a quiet huff as Thor lifted him into his arms and carried him across the room, setting him gently on the down mattress.

 

 

Being deprived of Loki’s touch for six months had left Thor hungry for it, and it seemed Loki was equally impatient, for Thor had barely managed to unclasp his belt and set Mjölnir aside when he felt his brother’s long legs wrap around his waist, trapping Thor between his supple thighs. And there was no place he'd rather be, the heat and smell of Loki's arousal so enticing that Thor couldn't keep himself from grinding down, rutting his leather-clad arousal against the soft slit of Loki’s cunt through the fabric of his loose-fitting breeches.

 

 

Thor had known about Loki's true heritage for decades, but his brother hadn't revealed the more intimate aspects of what it meant until months after their truce. Thor was still the only one who knew, though he suspected their parents were aware of what Loki’s Jötunn physiology entailed. He rarely allowed his body to go through the full transformation, but long pleasure-filled nights of exploration in the privacy of their chambers had taught them both to love the dual nature of his sex.

 

 

Loki referred to himself as runt and half-born and he had believed himself to be infertile, the centuries of living in Aesir skin rendering his true form undeveloped and useless. Thor stroked his hands over Loki's pregnant belly, pushing the tunic up to reveal milky white skin, marred slightly with faint pink scars. Clearly, Loki had been mistaken, and thinking back to their many nights together, Thor was surprised something like this hadn’t happened until now. He brushed his fingers against one of the scars on the underside of Loki’s belly as his brother worked on the lacing of Thor's breeches, the reality of the situation still difficult to grasp. His seed had taken root inside Loki and his brother was heavy with Thor's firstborn child. The thought sent a powerful jolt of arousal to his loins and he reached down to brush Loki's fingers aside, giving his fastenings an impatient tug. Once loosened, he parted the leather flaps and pulled his cock out, its girth growing before his eyes as he held it in his palm, his eyes on the swell of Loki's stomach.

 

 

“You enjoy seeing me like this,” Loki huffed, but his words held no bite. Thor watched, his nostrils flaring, as Loki wrapped his fingers around the thick length of his cock and pressed it against the naked skin of his belly. He purred low in his throat when Thor began to leak, pulling back the foreskin and squeezing gently, marking himself with clear drops of pre-spend. “You always were a deviant, brother,” Loki smirked, parting his thighs obscenely wide. "Well, since you’re here, the least you can do is make yourself useful and fuck me…"

 

 

Thor could rarely deny his brother anything, even less so in the bedroom, and he reached down to undo Loki's laces where they were tied loosely under the curve of his stomach. Loki arched his hips to allow Thor to remove his breeches, and Thor helped him move higher up on the bed, settling him on his side and sliding one of the velvet throw pillows under his belly for support.

 

 

“Are you comfortable?” Thor asked, his smile turning tender as he stroked his hand along Loki’s back.

 

 

Loki rolled his eyes and gave Thor’s hand an impatient yank. “Yes, yes, splendid, and I shall be even better once you join me.”

 

 

“Should we not talk first?”

 

 

“Really, Thor?” Loki arched one brow, his gaze falling to Thor’s erection where it bobbed between his thighs, heavy and thick. “Are you certain you wish to have a heart to heart  _now_?” He bent his leg just enough to allow Thor to see what awaited him. “Perhaps a little later?”

 

 

Thor’s gaze was drawn between Loki’s thighs, his mouth suddenly dry. “Aye, later.” The bed dipped under his weight as he settled to lie on his side behind Loki, but his lust was tempered by the knowledge that there was new life growing within his brother's body, small and fragile. "Are you certain I can still-"

 

 

"Thor," Loki sighed. “I’m not an invalid.” He took hold of Thor's hand and brought it down between his thighs. "Please,  _touch me_." The lust burned hot in Thor’s belly once more when he discovered just how wet and ready Loki was for him. "Yes, there..." Loki sighed, his own hand moving rhythmically on the long shaft of his hard prick, the movement somewhat hindered by his condition. “You have no idea… how hard it’s been to reach… to touch – ah!”

 

 

Thor’s cock twitched against his thigh when he stroked his fingers along the soft slit of Loki’s cunt, slipping two of them inside, the small opening yielding to him easily. His brother let out a contented sigh when Thor began to thrust, crooking his fingers just right against his inner walls.

 

 

“I must admit I missed this,” Loki gasped, as Thor caressed his touch-starved body from within. He stroked himself faster, the slick sounds revealing his desperation, and Thor felt him pulse around his fingers when Loki found his release a moment later, spilling into his own hand.

 

 

Thor withdrew his fingers only to add a third, plunging them back in and letting Loki rut into his hand as he sought his pleasure. He thrust his hips softly against Loki’s lower back, just enough to take the edge off, his cock pulsing with every wanton moan Loki let slip from his mouth. He dropped soft kisses along his brother’s smooth jawline and licked a stripe down the long column of his neck, tasting the salt on his skin. Loki moaned, deep and hoarse, and it wasn’t long before Thor felt him gush into his hand. He hurried to withdraw his fingers and sank his length into the slick warmth, moaning low in his throat at the feel of Loki’s cunt milking him.

 

 

He pulled his brother against his chest and wound his arm around his belly, drinking in in the sight of Loki’s changed body, his hand coming up to cup one flat pec in his large palm. He gave the nipple a gentle tweak. "Will these yield milk?" Thor whispered.

 

 

Loki’s cheeks were aglow with pleasure, but Thor could tell he was blushing from the way his shoulders hunched. “How should I know?” He reached up to yank Thor's hand away, settling it back to his belly. "No matter what those foolish mortals of yours claim, I assure you I have no previous experience in birthing children," he grumbled. 

 

 

The mortal myths had always been a sore spot for Loki, though Thor's own portrayal in them was hardly flattering, and he decided to drop the subject, not wanting to risk rising Loki’s ire when he was buried inside him. He’d barely had time to relieve himself during his realm-wide journey and his sac was so heavy it ached, his pleasure mounting. He pawed at Loki’s naked hip, but the sharp jut of bone had disappeared as his brother had filled out. Thor reached over, finding Loki’s hand instead, clasping it tightly.

 

 

“Loki…”  Thor’s breaths were growing ragged, his movements faltering as his sac grew tight, ready to spill. “Can I-?”

 

 

“Mmm,” Loki hummed, arching his back to receive Thor’s seed inside him as Thor finally spilled, his release copious and utterly satisfying.

 

 

Loki shifted his hips after a while and Thor hissed as his prick slipped out, the air in the room cool compared to Loki’s inner heat. He tucked himself back into his breeches and buried his face in Loki’s nape, nuzzling at the sweat dampened locks. Loki was relaxed in his arms, his head lolling gently on the pillow as they basked in the afterglow. Thor half-suspected it to be a ruse and he knew his brother would most likely disappear the moment Thor fell asleep. He reached over to seek out Loki’s hand and stroked his thumb along the scar where it cut across the faint grooves on his palm, shorter than the one Thor carried on his own hand. Loki’s fingers twitched against his knuckles, and Thor could tell he was growing restless, clearly aware that Thor was not about to fall asleep and grant him the opportunity to flee.

 

 

“Thor, let- let go.” Loki’s voice was soft, but Thor felt him stiffen in his arms.

 

 

He released his hold on Loki’s hand, but he would not allow himself to be distracted twice. “You could have told me,” Thor whispered, unable to hide the hurt in his voice. “You didn’t have to leave.”

 

 

Loki let out a long exhale, rolling over to meet Thor’s eyes. “Of course I did,” he said, turning his face down to glare at his stomach. “How could I possibly have stayed? Look at me.”

 

 

There sight of Loki’s pregnant belly was indeed hard to ignore and his decision to run understandable. Many mistook Loki for a great schemer, but Thor knew his brother to be an impulsive creature, someone who did not hesitate to flee if the odds were not in his favor.

 

 

"I fail to see how squatting in an abandoned villa in the middle of the Vanaheim countryside is going to fix anything,” Thor scoffed. "What were you going to do when the child is born? Give it away?"

 

 

Thor was suddenly reminded of the long list of Vanir families and his breath caught in his throat, the guilty expression on Loki's face answer enough.

 

 

"Loki..."

 

 

“What choice do I have!?" Loki cried out. He beat his fist against Thor’s chest, his breaths growing short and panicked. "Everyone is going to  _know_ ,” he wailed. “Don’t you understand? My heritage… our liaisons, it’s all going to come out if I come back home now. What else could I do but run?”

 

 

Loki had begun to tremble in his arms and Thor thought it best to pretend he hadn’t noticed the small tear rolling down his flushed cheek. He clasped his hand behind Loki’s neck, but had no words of comfort, for he knew Loki spoke the truth. Only their parents and Heimdall knew the secret of Loki’s birth. Loki may have lost his right to the throne for his past transgressions against Asgard and Midgard, but the people of Asgard still believed him to be Thor’s brother through blood. Revealing that Thor had begat an heir with his own kin would cause a scandal the royal house would not soon recover from.

 

 

He worried his bottom lip between his teeth as he considered his next words carefully. He’d long since accepted that their love could never be more than a well-kept secret, something that could only exist behind closed doors. But once Loki’s true heritage had come to light, Thor had begun to entertain a thought of someday loving Loki without the need to hide. He’d never had the courage to bring it up, for he knew Loki resented his Jötunn form, the damage from their parents’ mistake slow to heal. But now it seemed he had no choice.

 

 

Thor cupped Loki’s cheek, brushing his thumb over the small crow’s feet at the corner of his eye. “And would it be so bad? If people knew of your true heritage,” Thor asked, his voice steady even as his hand wavered.

 

 

Loki recoiled, visibly shaken by Thor’s question. He shook his head and parted his lips to speak, but no words came forth and Thor took the opportunity to continue.

 

 

“Jotunheim ceased to be a threat after Helblindi took the throne. The old trade routes have been open for almost a decade now and most of our people view the realm in a neutral light.” Loki shook his head, but Thor pressed on, his palm clammy where it clasped Loki’s neck. “There is no need for you to hide, Loki.”

 

 

“It’s not that simple! It can’t be,” Loki protested. He tried to withdraw once more, and Thor let him go, but Loki did not go far. He struggled to sit up, panting with the effort and Thor gave him a moment to catch his breath before sitting up himself.

 

 

He reached out to lay his hand on Loki’s shoulder, earning him a snarl and a withering glare, but he pressed on, lowering his palm to the round curve of Loki’s stomach instead. Loki reached down to swat Thor’s hand away, but Thor caught his wrist easily and clasped their fingers together, ignoring Loki’s angry tugging.

 

 

“I will support you, brother, no matter what you decide,” Thor said, his voice level. Loki ceased his struggling, his fingers relaxing against Thor’s palm and Thor loosened his grip enough to settle both their hands on Loki’s stomach. “But this child is welcome, Loki, and if you allow it, it can also be a new beginning.”

 

 

Loki let out a stuttering breath, his eyes following the movement of Thor’s hand where it stroked across his stomach. He was so quiet that Thor began to fear his words had been a blunder, wishing to take them back when he saw another tear roll down Loki’s cheek. His brother closed his eyes and raised his hand to clutch at Thor’s travel-worn tunic.

 

 

“Loki?”

 

 

Thor’s mouth fell open in quiet wonder as Loki began to shift before his eyes, his pale complexion turning as blue as the deep frost of Jotunheim. His features remained familiar, but somehow sharper, the red of his lips fading to pale blue. Thor watched the change with bated breath, his eyes following the whorls and lines that rose to Loki’s skin, his brow etched with what Thor assumed were the markings of his house. Once the shift was complete, Loki exhaled slowly, but his eyes remained closed. Thor reached up to trace the thin lines on his pointed chin, stroking them gently as he waited for Loki to meet his gaze. The silence between them stretched on, heavy with anticipation. Thor felt the tight hold on his tunic loosen as Loki finally opened his eyes, his gaze as red as freshly spilled blood.

 

 

Thor greeted him with a fond smile. “Does this mean…?“

 

 

Loki’s face still revealed all the self-doubt and lingering shame years of hiding had instilled in him, but he held Thor’s gaze, the corner of his mouth curving up tentatively.

 


End file.
